The Exception to the Rule
by broadwaypants
Summary: AU; Blaine transfers to Carmel after the bullying at his old school reaches a peak.  He auditions for Vocal Adrenaline, gets in, and quickly becomes the bane of Jesse's existence.
1. Chapter 1

They met at the very end of Jesse's sophomore year of high school.

It's been a tradition for as long as anyone can remember. Ms. Corcoran gathered all the members of Vocal Adrenaline together to announce who their leads would be for the next year, and to re-audition those who did not make the lead positions. After the current members of the club have auditioned, it was opened up to the rest of the school. It would take hours, sometimes lasting for more than one day, but by the last day of school, they would have their team for the following year.

It was a binding contract, landing a place in Vocal Adrenaline. If you were accepted, you weren't allowed to change your mind or change schools. One girl had even moved in with a friend halfway through the previous school year because her family had moved a state over. Some would say this was unfair to new students to the school, because typically they didn't get to try for a spot until their second year at Carmel, but that was how things worked and no amount of complaining would change that.

The announcement that Jesse was to be their lead for the following year as well shocks nobody. One girl, who was to be a senior and who had been hoping for the glory spot, left in a huff, but the others just clapped politely and muttered about how obvious that had been. A couple seniors were announced to be staying on for another year, their backup female lead was announced, and then it was time for auditions.

Jesse didn't have to stick around for these, of course. He'd secured his spot and was free to go, to ignore Vocal Adrenaline's existence until the list was posted on the last day of school, but that was no fun. He liked watching people trip over themselves and their lines while trying for a spot. He was a big believer in Schadenfreude. Blame _Avenue Q_ for that one.

And this time looked as if it would pay off, because they had quite the group of failures auditioning. Half of them couldn't even hold a tune and were asked to leave after five notes, something Jesse watched with rapt interest one might equate with a compelling movie. He could have brought along popcorn and there was his entertainment for the next day or so.

They did have some genuinely talented kids trying out too, of course. Everyone who had been in the club that past year re-auditioned, except for the seniors who didn't feel like flunking. There was a boy Jesse remember seeing on crutches this time last year now trying for a spot, and his voice was nice, though his dancing definitely needed work. A couple girls from the gymnastics team seemed to have decided to try as some sort of group pact, but none of them were particularly musically gifted, so Jesse used their audition slots as his bathroom break.

Which was when he ran into Carmel's principal.

"Mr. St. James," Principal Jeffries said in a booming, jovial voice, reaching out to shake his hand. "Auditions going well, I trust?"

"Fairly well, Mr. Jeffries," Jesse shrugged a shoulder. "Of course, you'll be looking at this mug of mine for another year in the lead slot, so of course it's not all bad." He laughed, and Principal Jeffries laughed too, and it was then that Jesse realized that there was another boy with him.

"Jesse, this is Blaine Anderson," Principal Jeffries seemed to remember Blaine's existence right as Jesse noticed him, stepping to the side a little so the two boys were standing directly in front of one another. "Blaine, this is Jesse St. James, the pride and joy of Carmel's pride and joy, Vocal Adrenaline."

"New transfer?" Jesse asked, sticking out his hand.

"Yes," Blaine nodded, taking Jesse's hand and giving it a firm squeeze.

"Jesse, why don't you take Blaine with you to see some auditions?" Principal Jeffries suggested, like it was the most perfect idea to ever been thought. "No doubt he'd enjoy seeing the best of the best."

"Shame all of VA's already gone, then," Jesse said honestly, but he did indeed, lead Blaine into the auditorium, Principal Jeffries asking Blaine to meet him back in his office once they were done.

"You must be pretty special," Jesse said conversationally as they walked into the auditorium, noticing there was a pause between auditions, probably because Ms. Corcoran had finally gotten a headache from all the off-pitch singing. "Mr. Jeffries never shows new students around himself. Did you miss the tour with the other eighth graders or something?"

"I'll be a sophomore come fall, actually," Blaine corrected him. "I'm transferring from another school across the district."

"Can't say I blame you," Jesse grinned, sitting down two seats in, gesturing for Blaine to follow. He did just that, choosing to sit on the aisle rather than the seat next to Jesse. "Carmel does offer wonderful opportunities for music, if you're into that sort of thing. Can't say I pay much attention to the academics, but hey, if I'm pulling a 4.0 without any help from the Asian kids, then they can't exactly be top of the line, can they?"

"What exactly is going on in here?" Blaine asked, looking at the single spotlight on the stage and the abandoned desk that Ms. Corcoran usually occupied.

"Vocal Adrenaline auditions," Jesse pointed to where a few of the old members were sitting. "You have to have heard of us. We're only the best show choir in the state."

"Yes," Blaine nodded. "Wow, auditions already? That's a bit… well…"

"Different," Jesse supplied, "we know. But this way gives us the whole summer to make sure we're acquainted with everyone else, so come fall we work like a well-oiled machine. And just in case you didn't catch this from before, I'm the male lead, for two years in a row now."

"Very nice," Blaine looked over at him, nodding. "Yeah, you do look familiar now… I think I came to an invitational once. Or something like that. My old school didn't have a show choir, but we did have a regular chorus class. That was fun." He looked over at the stage, eyes raising to where the spotlight was coming from. "Can anyone audition?"

"You're not thinking of trying, are you?" Jesse almost laughed. "You don't audition for Vocal Adrenaline on a whim, Blaine."

"Why not?" Blaine looked back over at him, his smile now almost mischievous. "Is no one allowed to be that good?"

Jesse did laugh this time. Blaine couldn't be serious about this. Prospective members would practice for weeks, if not months, before deeming themselves ready to audition. Jesse himself had slaved over choosing his audition song for all of eighth grade, signing up for every sort of dance class that was taught in Akron to better his chances when asked to do a routine. There was no way some boy who didn't even seem to know what VA was could get in after trying out on a whim. He wasn't even dressed properly, Jesse now noticed, looking him up and down.

"Could I borrow some shoes?" Blaine asked, seeming to have realized why Jesse was looking him over.

"From who?" Jesse raised an eyebrow.

"From anyone," Blaine shrugged a shoulder. "I'll have to dance, right?"

Jesse stared. Apparently he was serious. Well, this would be good for a laugh, if anything, so Jesse stood up and waved over a boy named Van, who had just been flunked, even though he had only been a junior, to keep him around longer.

"Yeah?" Van asked, looking from Jesse to Blaine, his entire face lighting up. Jesse knew that Blaine was going to be in for a welcome-to-Carmel-my-name's-Van-let's-be-best-friends-okay? speech if he didn't stop the other before he got started, so he did just that, asking quickly, "Van, could you take Blaine backstage and get him some appropriate clothing for the dance part of the audition?"

"Sure," Van beamed at them. "He a friend of yours, Jess?"

"We just met three minutes ago," Jesse chuckled, shaking his head and watching Van seize Blaine's hand and shake it excitedly, already talking the other's ear off as soon as they began walking.

Jesse watched them go, his eyes not leaving them until Van pushed back one of the curtains onstage so Blaine could go to the designated changing area. Then he gave himself a little shake, chuckling and saying softly, "No way. He's not going to get it."

Ms. Corcoran came back after about two minutes, and auditions resumed. There were two girls from the gymnastics team that had yet to go, but they were dismissed with a wave of Ms. Corcoran's hand, as she told them to come back when they knew how to hold a tune. Then Van came out, bounding across the stage like a cross between a gazelle and a troll, jumped down from the stage, and ran all the way up the aisle to where Ms. Corcoran was sitting, whispering something to her.

She sighed, then called, "Blaine Anderson."

Blaine came out, looking a bit ridiculous in the strange array of clothes Van had managed to procure for him, wearing a fairly normal pair of dance shoes, but he'd swapped his khakis for Van's favorite pair of practice pants, the tie-dye ones that everyone laughed at but put up with because Van was, well, Van. He'd stripped down to a T-shirt, presumably having had it under his button-down shirt and sweater. He looked a mess, like a rag doll that had its clothes chosen by a colorblind four-year-old, but he carried himself with confidence anyway.

"Thank you, Ms. Corcoran," Blaine smiled. "My name is Blaine Anderson and I'll be singing 'Be Our Guest' from _Beauty and the Beast_."

Jesse buried his face in his hands to stifle his laughter. This boy clearly had no idea what he was doing. 'Be Our Guest' was a good song, sure, but using it to audition for the state's most rigorous show choir? He was going to look like a woobie, like a child who didn't know how the world worked. He actually had to wipe his eyes when he looked back up, wanting to watch this debacle for himself.

And it actually wasn't half bad. Blaine had a good voice, he would admit that much, but he wasn't quite in control of it. He didn't seem to know what to do with himself, so he just sort of stood still while gesturing to the almost empty auditorium. His stage presence needed work, oh yes, and if his current stationary state was any indication of his dancing prowess, he'd need a lot of work on that, too. But his voice was nice. Jesse would give him that one.

"Thank you, Mr. Anderson, you may wait backstage," Ms. Corcoran decided, which was her way of saying, 'Congratulations, kid, your voice is good enough for me to keep you around for now.' She made a few notes on her notepad, then added, "You'll be with group number six for the dancing part of the audition."

"Thank you," Blaine bobbed in a sort of half-bow before leaving the stage.

That was when Jesse left. He never stuck around for the dance part of the auditions, anyway. That was when some of the senior members taught the audition groups a simple routine to assess their basic skills, and while Jesse was their male lead, dancing had never been his forte. He was no use to anyone when it came to teaching dance routines; he followed and relied on his voice to do most of the work. It wasn't like he couldn't dance, because it would be doing him a great disservice to assume that was the case, just that it didn't come as second nature.

Jesse didn't pay much mind to Vocal Adrenaline hopefuls for the rest of that week, only deciding he cared on the last day of school when the list was posted. His name was right at the top, announced as their lead for the following year, and then the rest of the members were listed alphabetically below him.

Blaine Anderson's name was first on the list.

And Blaine Anderson himself was walking down the hallway, smiling and actually waving to someone Jesse didn't know, probably someone who had been in his dance group during auditions.

"Did I make it?" he asked, coming to a halt beside Jesse.

"Why are you here?" Jesse asked rather than answering.

"I had to check the list, didn't I?" Blaine put a finger over Jesse's name, then moved it down, grinning when he revealed his own name mere seconds later. "So I decided to come in. I couldn't go all summer without knowing. That would just be counter-productive. Van told me that you all use the summer to get to know one another, so how silly would it be if I just… never showed up and was a complete stranger come fall?"

"Fair point," Jesse shrugged. "I just can't believe they let you in during school hours."

"My parents can be very persuasive when they want something," Blaine said, as if commenting on the weather. "So I guess I'll be seeing a lot of you this summer, then?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Jesse agreed without really thinking about what he was saying.

"Great," Blaine beamed at him, in a way that reminded him so much of Van that it was almost creepy. He stuck out a hand and Jesse took it, shaking it firmly. "It will be my pleasure to be your teammate, Jesse."

Jesse decided right then and there that he didn't like Blaine Anderson.

In all fairness, he had no reason to dislike the other boy. Blaine had been perfectly nice to him, but there was something about the way he carried himself that Jesse found annoying. Every little idiosyncrasy that he came to learn about over the summer was marked down as another reason to dislike the boy, from the way he plastered his hair to his skull to the way he would pretend not to realize when he started singing spontaneously. Jesse decided that Blaine was a show off who wanted to take his spot as male lead, and while some of Vocal Adrenaline just called him paranoid, a few others actually did seem to agree with him.

"He's a complete slime ball," a boy named Jason agreed, looking over at where Blaine was sitting with the three freshmen-to-be that had made it into Vocal Adrenaline. "He's trying to get in with the newbies to corrupt them."

"See?" Jesse shook his head, back turned to Blaine and pointedly ignoring the fact that the other was there. "I don't like him. I just don't like him. Not one bit."

And as the summer went on, it became more and more obvious that Jesse was right. At first the entire club had gotten together once a week, going bowling or out for pizza, getting to know the new members and keep in touch with the old ones. It was how they did things; once a week all summer the entire club got together to promote camaraderie.

But now, it seemed as though whenever Jesse announced what their plans were, the new members always had excuses to miss it. Soon it ended up being just the members that had been in the club the previous year, and while the newbies said their pets were sick or their mothers needed help, Jesse spotted them all more than once, running about the city with Blaine Anderson leading the way.

He was clearly planning a mutiny before the year had even started, and Jesse would not have that.

So he flaunted his position as male lead, telling the newer members that he was severely disappointed in their lack of team spirit and that he would, of course, be reporting all of this to Ms. Corcoran at the beginning of the year, so they might want to wise up if they wanted to keep their spots. He hadn't said anything to Blaine, of course, because he wanted to have something terrible to say about him at the beginning of the year, but it seemed that he was too late. Wherever Blaine went, the newbies followed.

For the first time, Jesse didn't even know everyone's names during the first practice. He had never been very good with names, but a decent lead knows all of his supporting team members' names, so he'd worked on committing them all to memory two years in a row. But now here he was, standing in the middle of the group, and all those smaller kids over there with Blaine were just nameless faces. He hadn't gotten to know any of them at all, barely remembering any of them from the scant amount of time they'd spent together during those first few weeks of summer before Blaine had stepped in and ruined everything.

Ms. Corcoran started their first rehearsal by lecturing them on their failure of a summer, something that made Jesse smirk proudly. She told the newer members that if they weren't willing to do things her way, they could say goodbye to their spot. There were plenty of people who wanted to be in Vocal Adrenaline, she reasoned, so it wouldn't exactly be a challenge to replace them.

"You all were given your spots not just because you're talented, but because I was under the impression that you all were team players, that you wanted to be part of this team. If any of you no longer feel that way, there is the door." She pointed, but nobody moved.

The rest of that first rehearsal was spent re-auditioning everyone except Jesse to see where they would fall into the club's hierarchy. They needed lead dancers, backup vocals, featured vocals, and reserve members. Nobody wanted to be a reserve member, because you were unlikely to actually end up performing onstage regardless of the fact you had to attend every practice, so this audition was taken just as seriously as the first.

Jesse didn't stick around for these either, leaving and returning to school the next morning to look at the list posted on the auditorium door. As expected, Van and three other members who had been flunked had received the top dancing spots. His name was still at the top of the list as lead, but now they had featured singers listed beneath him. The featured singers were some of the most important members, because if anything were to happen to Jesse, they were next in line for his lead position.

And Blaine's name was there.

Jesse burst into the auditorium, already speaking even though he didn't know if Ms. Corcoran was actually there.

"What on earth made you put Blaine as a featured singer? Nobody gets that their first year in the club, nobody, and he's already the reason that all of our freshman don't feel like part of the team, because he spent the entire summer corrupting them and telling them that teamwork doesn't matter and he's probably plotting to ruin us right this second!"

"Jesse St. James, I thought you'd be taking this better."

Ms. Corcoran was indeed there, sitting off to the side, a stack of papers in her lap. She motioned for him to come over, so he did, trying his hardest not to stomp on his way there.

"Sit," she ordered, so he obeyed.

"Blaine's a good singer," she told him. "A very good singer. And if your voice goes, I want one like his replacing it."

"But he's–"

"Jesse, I know you don't care for him, but I have to do what's best for the club."

"What's best for the club or what's best for Blaine?" Jesse countered, his eyes flashing. Ms. Corcoran paused, licking her top lip then making a clucking noise, shaking her head.

"What's best for the club."

"I don't believe you." He stood up, walking back out of the auditorium, but Ms. Corcoran said something to make him stop.

"You didn't deserve the male lead spot last year."

"Excuse me?" Jesse turned, heart thudding painfully and his cheeks flaring.

"Last year, when I made you the first sophomore male lead this club has ever had, you weren't the best suited for the job," Ms. Corcoran explained. "Eddie was the best candidate, Eddie the senior who had worked his butt off for three years, was more suited for the job than you were. Ask me why I gave it to you instead."

"Why did you give it to me instead?" Jesse asked, his voice quiet.

"Because you wanted it more, and I knew that if I gave it to you, you would stop at nothing to being the best this school has ever seen. I knew, that if you had that spot, you would work so hard that within two months you would already be the best male lead we've ever had, and much better suited for it than Eddie. So I gave it to you, trusting that you would do just that, and that's exactly what you did."

"Oh," was all Jesse said, not quite sure how he was supposed to take the news that his own director hadn't thought he was the prodigy he'd assumed everyone saw him as.

"I make decisions based on more than just talent," Ms. Corcoran informed him. "I make them based on drive, and you and Blaine have the same drive. I can just see it in the pair of you. The two of you thrive on being special, on being placed a cut above the rest, and I knew then that giving you the lead spot would make both you and this club unstoppable. So you'll excuse me for giving the boy that will be our male lead once you're gone the spot he deserves."

They stared at each other, the tension so alive that Jesse feared it might snap at his fingers were he to reach out into the space between them.

"I believe this matter has been settled, Mr. St. James," Ms. Corcoran finally spoke.

"Indeed it has, Ms. Corcoran," Jesse retorted, tipping his chin upward slightly before turning on his heel and actually leaving this time.

Blaine was standing outside of the auditorium with a girl Jesse recognized from yesterday. She was giggling at something Blaine had clearly just said, one of her hands resting on the list of names, further down the page, presumably near her own name. She caught sight of him over Blaine's shoulder, and the giggling died away as if someone had just stolen her voice. Blaine turned.

"Oh, Jesse," he smiled, but it didn't quite meet his eyes. "We were just talking about you."

Jesse didn't know why he did it, but the next thing he knew, he had a fistful of Blaine's shirt and had rammed him back against the auditorium door, the girl squealing and jumping out of the way.

"Let me make something clear, Anderson," Jesse's voice was low, face inches from Blaine's and his eyes locked on the other's. "I am the male lead of Vocal Adrenaline. You may have been able to parade around Akron over the summer playing Mister Nice Guy with all the newbies, but that won't swing in this auditorium. This is my auditorium, my stage, my show choir. Because at the end of the day, that list has me as lead and you as featured, and nothing you do will change that."

"You talk a big game, Jesse," Blaine actually laughed in his face, "but as far as I can remember, we haven't heard you sing in quite a while. It would be a shame if you let your frustrations harm a voice that's out of practice."

Jesse wanted to dig into his backpack and pull out his strategic schedule he followed down to the minute in order to keep his voice fine-tuned in Vocal Adrenaline's absence, wanted Blaine to see just how hard he had worked and was still working for his spot, but that would be playing right into his hands. That was what Blaine wanted; for Jesse to show that he was threatened.

So Jesse just smirked, letting go of Blaine's shirt and taking a few steps backwards, saying, "You're right. I haven't sung in quite a while. That's because I don't flaunt it for everyone to see, like some half-naked whore."

He walked away before Blaine could say anything more, almost stomping down the hallway to get to his locker. Students stared and crowds parted to let him through, none of them wanting to end up with squashed toes. Jesse unlocked his locker and yanked at it with such force that he was surprised it hadn't come off the hinges, then promptly let out a groan and banged his head against the back of it.

"I hate Blaine Anderson," he told his locker, closing his eyes and just standing there, his head inside his locker, trying to block out the noise of everyone around him.

"Hey Jesse!" a bright, cheerful voice greeted him, making him extricate his head to glare at the only person who could be that happy when talking to someone with his head in his locker.

"Hello, Van," he told the other, rolling his eyes.

"So, did you see the list yet?" Van asked, not waiting for an answer before continuing. "It's, like, super cool that you get to be lead again. I mean, we all knew that was gonna happen since, like, forever, but it's nice to, like, officially have the same guy two years in a row. And the rest of the lineup looks solid, dude, like, we've got this thing in the bag already and it's only the second day of–"

"Oh my God, Van, shut up," Jesse snapped, slamming his locker closed. "You are so annoying and you just need to learn when to close your mouth. And you might want to shave your head too; it looks like a mop took up residence on your head."

It took seeing the sunny, always-happy Van looking upset for Jesse to realize what he'd just done.

"Funny," Van forced a smile, tugging on a lock of his own barely-shoulder-length hair. "Last time you commented on it you said I was one of the few guys who could actually pull off the hippie hair thing." Van swallowed. "You said it matched my 'already hippie-esque personality,' remember?"

"Van, I just…" Jesse bit his lip, never one for apologies or having to explain himself. "It's Blaine. I think he's after my spot."

"Jesse," Van sighed, "you're an idiot if you think, like, he'd gonna get it. Nobody wants him, dude. We all want you. In the, like, totally platonic male lead way. Obviously."

"The freshmen don't," Jesse pointed out.

"And how many of them actually made the real team?" Van prompted. Jesse said nothing; he hadn't actually looked at the rest of the list, knowing he probably wouldn't recognize all the names if he had.

"You're right," Jesse finally said. "Our resident hippie always does end up saying the right thing." He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, but Van wasn't done with him just yet.

"Blaine said the same thing, you know. About my hair?" He pointed to his own head. "He, like, didn't say it like that. But he said that I'm a talented dude and that with a little… polishing, I think it was, that I'd be, like, set." Van raised an eyebrow. "So I guess you guys, like, agree on that."

"No," Jesse shook his head. "Because I really do like it." His smile reached his eyes this time, then he turned and left, already feeling the urge to call up one of the Asian kids to go to his classes for him, though it was only the second day of school.

Blaine was quiet when Jesse passed him in the hallways. They even ended up sitting at the same table in the cafeteria, though Jesse was all the way on one end while Blaine was at the other. They never made eye contact and they didn't speak, but it didn't feel as if either had made the other upset. They were just two kids at school who knew of the other's existence but chose not to acknowledge it. The same held true for rehearsal in the afternoon. They stood at opposite ends of the stage and ignored each other, and Jesse was all too happy to play along.

And suddenly it was like there was no Blaine. The first few weeks of rehearsals were always boring, since everyone needed to get used to working with each other all over again. Starting a new routine was always the hardest part, and starting the beginning of the year was even harder. People rotated in and out of set places, switched dance partners, went from upstage to downstage, trying to figure out where they worked best. Oftentimes it ended up with their lead dancers in front and the featured singers on the ends, backup vocals in the back, appropriately. Jesse, of course, was always the center of attention.

Things were normal. Everything had fallen back into place and Ms. Corcoran was getting to know everyone well enough to start giving them individual notes rather than addressing problems as if it was the entire group's fault. That was always Jesse's favorite part, when the criticisms aimed at others stopped getting aimed at the entire group. He'd always found it extremely dull to have to listen to something he hadn't done.

Two weeks passed, and Jesse assumed that everything was back to the way they were supposed to be. And then in rehearsal, Blaine raised his hand.

Everyone stared. It wasn't customary for people to raise their hands. If you had a problem or needed to use the bathroom, you sucked it up and dealt with it until the deemed break period or when Ms. Corcoran asked for input. You never shouted anything out and you never interrupted the rehearsal, even if you did it politely by raising your hand.

Ms. Corcoran left him go, arm up, as she explained what she hoped to accomplish with their newest number. Blaine seemed not to get the hint; his arm was actually waving back and forth after about three minutes, clearly getting on her nerves.

"Mister Anderson, do you have something you'd like to say?" she finally asked, tapping the toe of her shoe loudly, making an obnoxious clacking noise.

"Yes," Blaine sounded polite, despite the fact that he'd all but flapped his hands at her. Jesse glared down the line at him, immediately on the defensive. "I was only wondering why we will be trying to accomplish sending a message about equality when our club clearly has a hierarchy."

"We perform each song in the way that showcases our strengths the best," Ms. Corcoran clucked her tongue. "That's how we do things in Vocal Adrenaline."

"Then what's the point of having all of us hang out over the summer?" Blaine challenged. "I mean, why tell us to be friends and like each other only to tell us who's better than everyone else once school starts?"

"Wow," Jesse interrupted, stepping out from his place in line and turning to look directly at Blaine. "You know, you could at least say what you mean instead of turning this into something it's not."

"I'm saying exactly what I mean, Jesse," Blaine assured him, looking straight back, his face unreadable.

"No, you're really not," Jesse shook his head, starting to walk towards Blaine. "Just admit it, Anderson. You want my spot and you think it's bullshit that everyone else isn't out for my blood too." He crossed his arms, tipping his chin upwards slightly. "Well, let me give you an in as to how we work here. Once rehearsal begins, I cease to be Jesse. Instead, I'm Jesse St. James, the male lead of Vocal Adrenaline who will do whatever it takes to be a good leader. And a good leader does what's best for his team. I think you'll find that both Jesses actually do count these people as friends."

"Am I your friend?" Blaine shifted his stance slightly.

"Jesse St. James thinks you are a valuable piece to the puzzle that is Vocal Adrenaline," he answered honestly. "But he'd be lying if he said that Jesse is your friend." He came to a halt in front of Blaine, staring the other down, grateful for the five inches he had on the other. "Next time you want to make a point, do it outside of rehearsal. We need every second of this time to prepare." He turned to face the rest of the group, voice raising, "So I hope none of you attempt to try this either."

"Thank you, boys," Ms. Corcoran interrupted loudly. "Yes, as Jesse was saying, we have certain ways of doing things here. One of those things is building camaraderie between teammates, and another is making sure each and every one of you knows where you belong at any given time. And right now each and every one of you need to hit the toilets. Ten minute bathroom break, and I want every one of you back here on the dot." She tapped her watch, and everyone split.

Things fell into a routine after that. Blaine would keep his mouth shut during rehearsals, but the second they ended, he would launch himself off the stage and bombard Ms. Corcoran with new ideas. He wanted to showcase more voices. He wanted to vary solos. He wanted to switch up the dancers. In short, he wanted equal treatment. He wanted the weak links to have their time in the spotlight, for the reserves to actually perform come competition time even though it would mean overcrowding the stage.

So Jesse had taken to bombarding Ms. Corcoran with ideas as well. He would counter everything Blaine said so that she didn't even have to speak, until she finally became fed up with the pair of them and told them goodbye. Then they would retreat backstage to change and wash up, pointedly ignoring each other unless one made the other particularly angry, in which case they would continue to argue over what was best for Vocal Adrenaline.

Jesse wasn't entirely sure why he bothered. Blaine was fighting a losing battle; Ms. Corcoran was not going to change the way they did things and probably never would. Blaine was going to have to get used to the way things were, and every second that Jesse argued counted as another second that he indulged the other's obvious need for attention. But he couldn't keep his mouth shut, not when every suggestion Blaine made basically said that Jesse needed less time in the spotlight. That was never okay.

He assumed that Blaine would call it quits after a few weeks, but then it was suddenly a month later and rather than waiting until after rehearsals, Blaine was making comments during rehearsals. He offered suggestions where they weren't welcome and pointedly sang louder than was necessary on backup. Jesse spent most of their rehearsal time glaring at him, and Blaine glared right back, and it was seriously messing with both of their concentration.

So much that neither of them noticed the smirks on everyone's faces one Thursday. To them, it was business as usual, and they promptly spent the next three hours glaring and making snide comments under their breath and out loud, seemingly unable to stop themselves. But when the rehearsal ended, they didn't file back to the dressing rooms with everyone else.

"Jesse St. James and Blaine Anderson, I am ashamed of you both," Ms. Corcoran said loudly, as the others didn't walk but _ran_ back to the dressing rooms. "You boys have been nothing but unprofessional with each other since this year began. And I will not stand for it." Both stared at her, then jumped in unison at the sound of doors slamming backstage. "Now I've never been one for forcing my students to get along, but this is a special situation. You two will be locked in this auditorium until you can come to an understanding." Both boys opened their mouths to protest, but she silenced them with a wave of her hand and a quick, "And whoever objects will get kicked out of the club, no questions asked."

They stopped staring at her and turned to look at each other, matching expressions of disgust bared for the other to see.

"The others have taken care of the doors backstage," Ms. Corcoran informed them, picking up her bag and heading towards the back of the auditorium. "And I'll be locking that one on my way out. You have three hours. If you haven't settled things by then, I'm leaving you here overnight."

Those were her parting words, closing the auditorium door with a snap behind her, the sound of it locking seeming to reverberate around the room, even though Jesse knew that was impossible. But it was the sound that was condemning him to spending one-on-one time with Blaine Anderson, the boy who had quickly become the bane of his existence, so excuse him for not jumping in excitement.

"Fuck," he muttered.

"I do believe this would be the first time we agreed on something," Blaine said quietly. "Because that sums up my thoughts on the matter quite nicely."


	2. Chapter 2

"Tell me something," Jesse said immediately, not waiting for any sort of silence to come between them or for Blaine to say anything more. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" Blaine teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't play that game with me," Jesse shot back, not a hint of amusement in his face. He wasn't interested in play games; he wanted answers. He was giving Blaine the chance to explain himself, giving them a chance to get out of this auditorium in less than three hours, and Blaine was choosing to waste that time instead.

"It's fun," Blaine shrugged a shoulder, sitting himself down at the piano bench.

"Fun?" Jesse rolled his eyes. "Blaine, we have a problem. And I don't know about you, but I really don't want to spend all night in this auditorium. Especially not with you. I have things I need to do, homework that needs finishing, and more importantly than that, I have show choir stuff to do. Your dedication to the club might begin and end with rehearsal, but it's my first priority outside of this auditorium as well."

"Good thing you're here, then," Blaine shot back. "Should be easy to work on show choir stuff in the auditorium where rehearsals are held."

They stared at each other. Jesse's hands had balled into fists, his arms tense at his sides. He wanted to leave this auditorium more than he wanted anything else, and apparently Blaine was willing to stay here if it meant pissing him off.

"This is ridiculous," Jesse decided. "I'm trying to do the right thing, and you're too busy trying to disagree with me to give that a shot."

He stomped off the stage, heading back to their dressing rooms, leaving Blaine sitting at the piano bench by himself. Rather than staying onstage with nothing to do but stare at the boy he hated, Jesse grabbed his backpack from where he'd thrown it under one of the vanities and set about turning the table usually used for makeup into a desk. While the trigonometry problems that needed his attention before the next morning weren't exactly the most appealing distraction, he supposed it would have to do.

About a half hour passed, Jesse still bent over his math textbook, his eyes sore from the bright lights. But he kept working, determined to have accomplished _something_ before Ms. Corcoran came back, even if it wasn't what she was hoping they'd accomplish. He was on his last problem when a slightly larger problem decided it needed his attention.

Blaine was playing the piano.

Jesse had no idea if Blaine had been playing for a few seconds or since he'd sat down to work on math homework. He tuned out the world when working on homework, giving himself completely over to concentration. That was the only way he got things done, and in the two seconds he'd let his mind wander between math problems, he'd heard the music. And of course, now that his concentration was broken, he couldn't block the music out.

His foot began to tap, his pencil poised above the paper, looking up into the mirror but not seeing his reflection at all. His head started moving in time with the music as well, recognizing the song, his lips soundlessly forming the words that should have accompanied the music.

No. He needed to block out the music, pretend it wasn't there and that he was the only person back here. Taking advantage of the fact that the song was ending, Jesse stared at his math problem, waiting for it to end, listening to the notes slow until they faded away altogether.

He got about five seconds of uninterrupted math time, and then Blaine was playing the piano again. He'd chosen the title number from _Beauty and the Beast_ this time, and Jesse had always had a soft spot for that song. Of course he wouldn't be able to concentrate, and of course he started singing along.

Jesse never really paid attention while he sang along, which meant that he didn't realize just how loudly he was singing along. He hadn't closed the door to the dressing room, which meant his voice had carried out into the auditorium itself, and when the song ended, Blaine called back, "Having fun?"

And he would have called back and said that yes, actually, he kind of was, except that Blaine had said it in a way that was clearly teasing him, clearly feeling superior because he'd managed to get Jesse to sing without even trying. So he didn't.

"Actually I'm trying to do my math homework," he started, but was cut off by Blaine laughing. Glaring at the open door, Jesse launched himself from the room, storming back out onto the stage.

"And why is that so funny?" he demanded.

"No reason," Blaine shrugged.

"But seriously, do you mind?" Jesse crossed his arms. "I really do want to finish this."

"And I really do want to play the piano."

"Oh my God, it's like your goal in life is to be the bane of my existence," Jesse suddenly shouted. "You never do anything properly and the second I want one thing, you automatically want the opposite! It's like it's the only thing that gives you joy in life, seeing me upset! What the hell is your problem?"

"Am I really the one with the problem?" Blaine asked. "Or is it possible that you're just too sensitive?"

Jesse just stared, open-mouthed at him. His breath was coming sharply in his chest, his anger physically paining him. He had never met someone as infuriating as Blaine Anderson, and it seemed that Blaine took savage pleasure in doing just that: infuriating him.

So Jesse marched back to the dressing room, grabbed his math book and his backpack, and came right back out onto the stage, dropping both his book and his bag onto the floor, the sound reverberating around the room. Then he dug in the outside pocket of his backpack, found his iPod, and turned up the volume. His ears would probably be ringing for hours afterwards, but sticking those headphones in his ears and drowning out any attempts Blaine might make to distract him felt wonderful.

Except now it was impossible to concentrate on anything, with music blaring in his ears. Jesse pretended to finish his last problem, jotting down random numbers onto the paper, then looked back up at Blaine, smirking.

Blaine had turned back to the piano and was presumably playing something else. Jesse couldn't see all of him, the instrument in question blocking his view, but his head was bowed, looking at the keys, his entire upper body animated as he played. His brow was creased in concentration, lips slightly parted. He even had a sheen of sweat across his forehead. Blaine had also blocked out the rest of the world, though he had chosen to make his own music rather than use headphones.

And as much as Jesse hated to admit it, Blaine looked very – he couldn't believe he was even thinking this – attractive like this. His hair was still mussed from rehearsal, and the way his entire body seemed to be moving with whatever song he was playing showed how much he did love what he was doing. Jesse took out the headphones, listening as Blaine played, watching him attentively.

"I didn't know you could play the piano," he said quietly and conversationally once Blaine had finished playing. Blaine looked up, jumping at the sound, obviously under the impression that Jesse really had tuned him out.

"Well, there aren't very many opportunities for the minorities to shine during practice," he snapped.

"Blaine, come on," Jesse groaned, falling backwards and lying down on the stage. "I'm just making conversation. Why does everything have to be an argument?"

Silence met him. Then:

"It's no fun when you don't argue back."

Jesse sat up, eyes fixed on Blaine once more, shaking his head.

"So you really do all this just for fun?"

Blaine sighed, his entire body sagging with that sigh, looking down at the keys on the piano again.

"I guess," he told the keys.

"Tell me something, honestly," Jesse implored. "Why did you leave your old school?"

Blaine looked up, and Jesse was surprised to see tears shining in his eyes.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he admitted. "So how about we pretend that I told you I became too much of an annoyance for our lead singer in the choir, he tried to kick my ass but I ended up beating the shit out of him, and then I got expelled."

"You're tiny," Jesse reminded him. "You can't be taller than five foot four. Unless this guy was a midget, no way I'd believe that." He stood up, walking over to the piano and leaning against it. "Try again, Anderson."

More silence met this request, but this time Blaine retained eye contact with him. They looked at each other, Jesse taking in Blaine's appearance all over again, this time not pretending to see some sort of malice glinting in his eyes but instead seeing them for what they really were. They were a nice shade of brown, lighter than he remembered, but then again, now he wasn't looking for the shadow of Satan, so that probably changed how he saw them. They were also still shining, and Blaine was blinking rapidly, clearly trying to keep them from spilling over.

"Is this the part where I offer you a tissue or something?" Jesse asked, feeling a bit awkward.

Blaine sniffed in answer to the question.

"I'll take that as a yes," Jesse pushed himself off the piano, meaning to go digging through his backpack to find something, but Blaine straightened in his seat, flapping his arms slightly, saying quickly, "No!"

"It's just a tissue," Jesse reasoned. "No shame in needing to wipe your eyes."

"I don't need one," Blaine said determinedly, sniffing again. "And I don't know why you're being so nice to me when you should be calling me a sissy for getting all misty over something stupid."

"Well that's not fair," Jesse argued. "Why the hell would I call you that? I don't even know what you're crying about. For all I know, your old school was full of pricks who used you as a football, so who am I to call you names? I may not like you, but I'm the last person who would use someone's past against them. Especially when said past is making you of all people cry."

That was when Blaine lost it. He hunched in on himself, crying rather loudly, leaving Jesse standing there with no indication on what he was supposed to do with himself. It wasn't like Jesse was a stranger to people crying; people cried during rehearsals all the time. But that was different. People cried during rehearsals because they were tired and in pain and were trying to push through, not because some mistake they'd made or some painful memory was coming back to eat them alive.

"I'm sorry," Blaine looked up, tears streaming down his face, dripping off his chin and leaving dark spots around the collar of his shirt. "I never meant to piss you off so much. It was just so easy, getting in with all the new people and deciding I didn't even want to try to get to know everyone else, because it's so much easier to make friends with people who don't already know each other than to fit into an already established group.

"And I didn't mean to turn into the guy who argued with you over everything, I just… This was my chance, my one shot at being someone else, and I thought that maybe if I could somehow replace you…"

He fell silent, but it was easy enough to figure out the rest. Blaine wanted to be accepted, wanted people to like him, and he wanted it so much that he didn't care whose toes he stepped on to get there. And Jesse's toes had been the first to stick themselves out in an attempt to trip him up. Jesse effectively had everything Blaine wanted; he was the lead of Vocal Adrenaline, he was popular in school, and his name was practically famous. Of course Blaine wanted that. Everyone at Carmel did. Most just chose not to try to steal that from him.

"So why did you?" Jesse asked, wanting to know the whole story. "People like you just fine. They'd probably like you even more if you didn't try so hard to make a pain of yourself."

Blaine was looking at him again, now through eyes that had stopped welling up, but were now rather red. He was trembling slightly and blinking rapidly, one arm half-wrapped around himself.

"Okay, so you were at the bottom of the social heap," Jesse guessed, and since Blaine didn't say anything to the contrary, he kept going. "Nobody liked you at your old school. So you came here and put on a fake air of confidence, and the only way to convince yourself it wasn't an act was to challenge the top dog. Me."

"You make it sound so simple," Blaine shook his head.

"Actor see, actor do," Jesse shrugged. "Do you think I got where I am now by sitting on my ass and letting things come to me?"

"You're still making it sound simple."

"Then explain it to me," Jesse asked again, sitting down on the stage. "Come down here, away from that safety blanket – I mean piano – and tell me the whole story. Tell me what was so terrible about who you were that you felt the need to change yourself that much."

Blaine didn't move. He stared down at Jesse, clearly wondering if Jesse really wanted to talk or if he was just asking for the sake of having something to do. Jesse couldn't imagine what Blaine was about to tell him, what was so horrible that it was making him cry and shake at the mere thought of admitting it. Was Blaine about to reveal that he was some sort of incestuous rapist who had almost been locked away for assaulting his sister or his cousin? Or maybe he'd run over a two year old his first time out driving. Or maybe–

"I'm gay," Blaine told him, sliding off the piano bench and crumpling onto the stage, head bowed. "I like boys, okay?"

Jesse gaped at him. Then he realized that that was rude and he shouldn't stare, because being gay was no big deal at all, and staring at Blaine like it was wasn't going to help anything.

"If you had any idea what was going through my head before you said that," he shook his own, chuckling. "So you're gay. So what?"

Blaine looked up at him, confused.

"Didn't you just hear me? I–"

"Like boys," Jesse finished for him, shrugging. "What's wrong with that?"

Blaine was looking at Jesse like he'd announced that it was his lifelong ambition to start a farm in the middle of the desert and cut himself off from the rest of the world for the rest of his life.

"Aren't you…" he trailed away, clearly not wanting to ask something. But he did, taking a deep breath and trying again. "Aren't you disgusted?"

"And why would I be disgusted?" Jesse raised an eyebrow. "I–"

"They called me horrible names," Blaine said suddenly, cutting Jesse off. His hands were balled into fists now, his eyes shining again. "Terrible names, names that made me want to hide in my bedroom and never come out. And I tried to be open about it, I really did, because people are supposed to accept you when you're honest, but they didn't. And then the one time I finally found someone who understood, who knew what it felt like… they had to take that away, too." He wiped his eyes with the back of one hand impatiently.

"I had a friend who was gay, so I asked him to some stupid school dance. Just as friends. I mean, we didn't even dance. We just stood there, then sat there, just talking. But apparently we're not allowed to do that, because…" He bit his lip. "That had been the first time someone had actually hurt me. Physically."

Jesse was suddenly thrown back to the day the list had been posted outside the auditorium, to how he'd grabbed Blaine by his shirt and all but slammed him against the wall. What sort of memories had he unknowingly triggered by doing that?

"At first it wasn't so bad," Blaine shrugged a shoulder, as if trying to shrug the whole thing away. "Just a couple shoves, and I got punched in the arm, but that just seemed to make it even more fun, like it was a game to see how far they could push us before we tried to hit them, too. He ended up in the hospital. It was an accident, but they ended up putting him in a coma. I only had a bunch of bruises and a broken arm, but… the next day at school… they told everyone that it had been the two of us fighting, that I'd put him in the coma. And even though our parents knew, nobody at school cared. I was that gay kid who put the other gay kid in a coma. And then I just got beat up on principle or something."

"So you came here, hid your sexuality, and pretended to be confident so that nobody would do that to you again," Jesse finished for him when Blaine paused.

"Yeah," Blaine nodded. "That about sums it up."

"You don't have to hide," Jesse told him. "Not here. Carmel has a Gay-Straight Alliance club and everything. Our school's big on tolerance, and you've got the Vocal Adrenaline stamp of approval. Nobody would dare mess with you, not if they want me and the rest of the group on their case."

"You don't know that," Blaine pressed. "Just because a school has a club and I got into a show choir doesn't give me a free pass. And you're one to talk. You have no idea what any of this feels like, what it's like to be so scared that you'd sooner re-create your entire being than try being yourself again."

"You're right," Jesse agreed. "I don't know what that feels like. But it's only taken me these few short minutes to decide that I like this Blaine a hell of a lot better than the one I knew before those few minutes, and I'd be willing to guess that everyone else will like this Blaine a whole lot better too."

"They'll look at me funny, though. That's what always happens." Blaine was wringing his hands together. "I won't be able to look at anyone in the locker rooms because that means I'm checking them out, and I can't ask any of the guys for help with the choreography because that means I'm checking them out, and I can pretty much say goodbye to any hope of getting a good roommate if we ever have to travel for competitions, because nobody wants to sleep in the same room as the gay kid."

"Blaine," Jesse reached out to put a hand on Blaine's shoulder, but he pulled back automatically.

"Don't," Blaine shook his head. "Because just because you might be okay with gay people and still think it's okay to put a hand on my shoulder doesn't mean everyone else is."

"Have you ever held hands with a guy?" Jesse asked.

"What?" Blaine frowned at him, obviously confused.

"Have you ever held hands with a guy?" Jesse repeated.

"No," Blaine answered shortly. "I couldn't do that at my old school. And it's not like I had a line of interested boys waiting for me or anything."

"What about a hug?" Jesse tried again. "Even just with a friend."

Blaine shook his head.

"When was the last time someone outside your family touched you? And I don't mean punching you or," he swallowed, "throwing you against a wall."

"Sixth grade," Blaine answered, so quickly that Jesse knew he had to have been clinging to whatever memory this was for a long time. "I met a boy named Alex, and he shook my hand when he said hello. But after that boys weren't allowed to touch each other, and once everyone found out I was gay, nobody wanted to touch me anyway."

"Did you know that we have three guys in Vocal Adrenaline who are gay?" Jesse then asked him, trying not to think about just how depressing it must be to not have positive physical contact with other people for almost four years.

"Really?"

"Really," Jesse echoed. "And should see all of us outside of rehearsal. We're a very physically affectionate group. You just isolated yourself too early to see that. Like Van? He hugs anything that moves, and some things that don't. After competitions, once we win, it's like a giant dog pile that doesn't end for, like, a week. Nobody here is scared of, I dunno, catching the gay or something. And they've all got their heads on the right way, so nobody thinks so highly of himself that he's convinced every gay guy wants him."

"How do you know?" Blaine asked, clearly not buying any of this.

"Because they all love me, don't they?" Jesse smiled at him.

Blaine's eyes widened.

"You're not… are you?" He seemingly couldn't bring himself to say the word aloud.

"I despise labels," Jesse chuckled softly, "so everyone here has dubbed me 'talent-sexual' instead." Still smiling at a very confused Blaine, he explained. "I'm attracted to people who I deem talented, regardless of what they've got between their legs."

Blaine said nothing, seemingly trying to digest this new piece of information. Jesse laughed again.

"This is the part where you're supposed to joke around with me and ask if I got a talent-boner from your voice," he instructed.

Blaine actually gasped, pulling his legs in close to his body and hugging them, as if afraid Jesse would somehow get the wrong idea if he left his crotch viewable. He was shaking again, and he swallowed thickly. Jesse almost wanted to laugh again, because it was silly to be afraid or nervous, not when Blaine wasn't even the one doing the pseudo-flirting, but he didn't.

"For the record," he scooted over to Blaine, putting one hand on his bent knee and the other arm going around his shoulders, feeling the boy stiffen, "I have an even bigger talent-boner now that I know you can play the piano."

Blaine shot out of his spot under Jesse's arm, stumbling over his feet in his rush to get away from him.

"Hey!" Jesse called out after him. "That's a compliment!"

Blaine stopped moving, turning around slowly and looking back at him.

"I know," he said quietly. "But…"

"Look, if it makes you feel more comfortable, I don't actually have a boner," Jesse laughed, spreading his legs a little, as if inviting Blaine to check for himself. Blaine pointedly did not look, focusing on Jesse's face instead. "But if you decide you're going to play the piano again, that might change."

Blaine's face, already slightly flushed, turned red.

"Why are you being so nice?" he asked. "I've been horrible to you."

"I'm not sure," Jesse admitted, but he grinned. "I guess it's a lot easier to understand and decide I like a Blaine Anderson who was hiding behind a dick façade than the Blaine Anderson who I thought really was just a dick for the sole purpose of being a dick."

"So are you purposefully calling me a dick to keep with the penis talk, or…?" Blaine actually laughed when he asked, making Jesse laugh with him.

"That time was an accident," he assured him. "Though I'd be more than happy to oblige if you'd like me to keep going."

"No thanks," Blaine shook his head, still pink in the face.

"Darn," Jesse winked. "I was having fun. Seeing you flustered is something new, and it's a rather nice change. Though of course I'm sure you don't feel the same." Blaine shook his head again.

"So," Jesse picked himself up off the stage, standing up and grinning over at the other again, "are you going to play the piano again?" Blaine shrugged a shoulder. "Because it's not like we have a ton of things to do in the absence of everyone else and a mysteriously vanishing Ms. Corcoran, who should have let us out by now."

"Do you think she forgot about us?" Blaine asked nervously, his eyes flicking to the back doors of the auditorium.

"Most definitely," Jesse nodded. "She's probably at home and figuring we've finished either screaming ourselves hoarse or are best friends now, so no big deal if she leaves us here overnight."

"That's mildly… disconcerting," Blaine decided.

"But we'll have fun, won't we?" Jesse walked over to him, slinging an arm around his shoulder, feeling pleased with himself when Blaine didn't stiffen or shrink away this time. "You'll play the piano for me and I'll re-introduce you to physical affection and then tomorrow when Ms. Corcoran comes to get us we can tell her all about the wild sex we had on the prop sofa."

Blaine let out a cross between a gasp and a laugh, seemingly not knowing what reaction was appropriate to that sort of comment.

"You can laugh," Jesse assured him. "Unless you ido/i want to have wild sex on the prop sofa, in which case I must ask that you at least buy me dinner first." He gave Blaine a squeeze, then let him go, walking over to the piano and saying, "Or afterwards. I'm not picky."

"Are you always like this?" Blaine asked him, practically shuffling after him.

"Like what?" Jesse raised his eyebrows.

"All…" Blaine paused, searching for the right word, "silly and flirty and kind of ridiculous. Are you always like this? Around people you don't hate, I mean."

"Pretty much," Jesse nodded. "Of course, only the ones I have talent-crushes on get the flirting." Blaine's face, which had turned back to a light shade of pink, darkened again. "And to be honest I'm really only doing it now because you're really cute when you're blushing."

Blaine actually giggled in response to that, looking down at the floor before back up at Jesse, avoiding his eye.

"Okay, if that's the response I'll get every time I call you cute, I really should do that more often," Jesse decided.

"I still say you're ridiculous," Blaine told him, shaking his head. "I tell you a sob story and suddenly it's okay for you to talk about boners and call me cute. That logic doesn't really make sense, Jesse."

"And who said I have to make sense? I might just so happen to be attracted to boys with sob stories."

"A half hour ago I thought you weren't attracted to boys at all."

"Funny how a proper conversation can change things," Jesse mused, then pressed a finger on one of the piano keys, saying, "I must say that I like this kind of banter a lot more than I liked arguing with you for real."

"Me too," Blaine agreed, his face darkening in color again.

"Is blushing a lot a side effect of not being able to flirt with anyone for four years?" Jesse asked, because Blaine's face looked permanently red at this point. Jesse, for whom flirting came as natural as singing, couldn't imagine not being able to do so out of fear of getting teased or pushed around. Blaine had missed out on what could have been quite a bit of fun, had he been in the right environment.

"I guess," Blaine shrugged.

"And are you just going to stay far away from this piano or are you going to come play?" Jesse smirked, then added, "Or are you too afraid that I'll actually get a boner if you do that?"

"I'm starting to think that's the only thing you want me to think about," Blaine bit his lip, clearly feeling nervous with the return of the penis talk.

"Is it working?" Jesse asked, his voice low, chuckling when Blaine twitched. He got up from the piano bench and took a few steps away, gesturing for Blaine to sit down. Blaine didn't answer his question, just shuffled awkwardly the rest of the way to the piano bench, sitting down carefully once he reached it. Jesse wasted no time in sitting down next to him, even though Blaine had sat himself in the middle of the bench.

"Oh," was all Blaine said, clearly not expecting that.

"So?" Jesse prompted. Blaine scooted over to give Jesse more space, clearing his throat and looking over at him for a second before looking back at the keys. His face was bright red again, but regardless of what might be going on inside his head, he did start playing.

It was easy to figure out what kind of music Blaine liked by listening to what he played. It seemed that the only songs he'd bothered to commit to memory were from Disney movies, probably because the tunes were recognizable and more likely to receive a favorable response. Blaine played his way through so many songs that Jesse lost count, even as he sang along, Blaine chiming in here and there as well.

They were having fun, sitting together at the piano bench, their legs pressed together without either of them realizing, Blaine's cheeks still slightly flushed but now out of happiness and excitement more than embarrassment. Jesse couldn't remember the last time he'd had this much fun singing Disney songs.

Blaine had just started playing a new song when suddenly, the lights in the auditorium went out.

"What the–?" Blaine jumped, but Jesse, who had spent time in the auditorium after hours before, knew what had happened and was therefore not surprised.

"It's midnight," Jesse told him, not even needing to check a watch or a cell phone for confirmation. "Since Vocal Adrenaline have such long practice hours, the school's electricity has to be put on a timer. All the lights go out at midnight, because otherwise the electricity bill would bankrupt them, what with the cost of our spotlights alone."

"I didn't realize it was so late," Blaine admitted, voice shaking slightly.

"Neither did I," Jesse agreed, getting up from the piano bench, hoping his eyes would adjust to the darkness soon. He reached out for Blaine, ending up poking him in the back before managing to get a hold on his arm. "Come on. There's no point sitting onstage in the dark. There are flashlights in the dressing rooms. Let's go." His grip on Blaine's arm slackened as the other stood up, then moved down to grab his hand instead, pulling him off in the direction Jesse knew led to backstage.

"You know where you're going, right?" Blaine asked him, right as Jesse walked into the curtain.

"Yep," Jesse said, his mouth full of dusty fabric. "This is the right way."

"It doesn't sound like the right way," Blaine gave his hand a squeeze.

"No," Jesse coughed, "we're going the right way." He pulled Blaine behind him, feeling in front of him with his free hand. After laughing when Blaine walked into the curtain as well, Jesse's hand found a doorframe. Stepping through it and feeling around once more, he found one of the vanities. He knew the flashlights were stored in the first one on the left, so still holding tight to Blaine's hand, Jesse located the drawer and found a flashlight inside.

"Here," he flicked the switch, illuminating the room in a dim, yellow light. Grabbing another one, he handed it to Blaine. "Told you I knew where I was going." He smirked, shining his own flashlight in his face, wondering if it would look as creepy as he wanted it to.

"Please don't make that face again," Blaine told him, so clearly it had worked.

"And what face would you like me to make instead?" Jesse was still smirking, but he turned the flashlight so Blaine couldn't see his face, leaning in closer so that he was right next to the other boy, whispering, "I'll make any face you want."

He felt Blaine squirm away from him, another giggle leaving the boy's lips, so Jesse turned his flashlight on Blaine, their grins matching even though Blaine couldn't see his.

"So what do we do now?" Blaine asked, turning his own flashlight on and shining it at Jesse.

"Stand in the dark and shine flashlights at each other?" Jesse smirked, adding, "Or maybe we really could go down and find that prop sofa and see what sort of fun things two boys can do on the furniture."

Even in this dim light, Jesse could still see Blaine's face flushing.

"No thanks," Blaine shook his head, taking a step backwards.

"You're afraid of me," Jesse teased in a sing-song voice. "Blaine Anderson is afraid of Jesse St. James seducing him." He took a few steps closer, raising an eyebrow and saying, "I assure you I'm not nearly as scary as my reputation may lead you to believe.

"Um," Blaine took another step backwards, tripping backwards into one of the chairs. "It's not that."

"What?" Jesse moved his flashlight from Blaine's face to his lap, asking, "Did _you_ get a boner?"

"No," Blaine reached up, shoving Jesse's flashlight away. "I just…" He mumbled something Jesse couldn't quite make out.

"Try again," Jesse instructed, shining his flashlight around the room, grabbing a chair, and pulling it up next to Blaine's. Blaine leaned in close to him, as if afraid of being overheard, even though it was only the two of them here.

"I'm don't like the dark," he confessed.

"Pity," Jesse teased, slinging an arm around Blaine's shoulders. "There are so many fun things to do in the dark. Guess I'll just have to show you a few of them to get you to forget how much you don't like it."


	3. Chapter 3

Three things happened at once. Blaine said, "I think I'll pass," slid out of Jesse's grip, and then there was a very loud bang. It sounded as if someone had backed into a piece of unstable furniture, and judging from the noise Blaine then made, he'd done just that. Jesse raised his flashlight high above his head, shining it down on the other boy, asking, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Blaine nodded, but he was twisted around, looking at his own back, one hand rubbing a spot just above his tailbone. "I just bumped into the vanity."

"And why did you do that?" Jesse pressed.

"You know why," Blaine said dismissively, feeling around behind him for the vanity in question, gripping the edge of it tightly and slowly leaning himself backwards against it. "So is there anywhere back here we can sleep that isn't the prop sofa? Because no offense, but if people actually have had sex on there, it doesn't sound like a very hygienic place to sleep."

"Sleep?" Jesse made a dismissive noise, sitting down on the floor. "You disappoint me, Anderson. We've got an entire auditorium to ourselves and you want to sleep?" Blaine flinched, which took Jesse aback. Figuring he might as well go along with this sharing trend that seemed to be going on, he then asked, "What's up?"

"Can you not call me that?" Blaine requested, looking up at Jesse, eyes rather wide. "I just… that's what people used to call me. And… well."

He didn't need to explain. Jesse knew what he meant, of course. Oftentimes people called each other by their last names for no reason, and sometimes it did have a purpose. He was guilty of this, calling people by their last names when he was annoyed with them, when he was trying to be serious, and in turn was called by his last name when someone was upset with him.

Blaine clearly had been known by his last name at his old school, never called by his first name because nobody had cared enough to befriend him. And that was just so… so _sad_ that Jesse found himself reaching out to take one of Blaine's hands.

"Sit down for a minute," he requested. Blaine did as he was told, facing him directly, their posture mirroring each other and both looking at the other's dimly-lit face.

"Your name is Blaine," Jesse told him. "You're a featured singer in Vocal Adrenaline. You're gay. You've been hurt in the past, so you pushed all that down to recreate yourself. But tomorrow, when we get out of here, you're going to be open about who you are, who you like, and the fact that you're not an annoying little shit."

Blaine snorted, doubling over.

"Well you have been," Jesse insisted, grinning. Blaine straightened up, grinning back.

"You're really nice, for someone with your reputation," he told Jesse, then looked down at their hands, which were still clasped tightly. "I don't think I would have ever guessed that I'd be holding your hand in a locked auditorium after midnight, even if I had to pick between that and meeting Daniel Radcliffe in terms of probability."

"Your faith in your fellow man is astounding," Jesse managed to keep a straight face, but then smirked when Blaine looked up. "Besides, I'm only nice to people I deem worthy. Congratulations." He let go of Blaine's hand suddenly, clapping his together and standing up. "So, are we gonna go have crazy sex now?"

Blaine stared up at him, a mix between disbelief and disgust.

"And how does that line usually work for you?" he shot back.

"Pretty well, actually," Jesse admitted, nodding slightly. "You should try it. Except if you try it on any of the Vocal Adrenaline guys they'll know you got it from me. So you might as well just take me up on this offer instead."

"I can't tell if you're serious or if you're joking," Blaine admitted, still staring up at him with that half-and-half expression.

"It's an art," Jesse informed him. "You'll pick up on it soon enough. But really, come here." He held out both hands. Blaine hesitated, but then slid both of his into Jesse's, who hoisted him up and pulled him into a tight hug with no preamble. Blaine made a muffled 'oof' noise when their bodies collided, but didn't say anything more. Jesse felt his body stiffen, felt him fidgeting, so he clung on tighter.

"Hug me back, dammit," he ordered, and then Blaine was fidgeting because he was laughing and because his arms were pinned to his sides. But he slid them both around Jesse's waist nicely enough, his head falling to rest on Jesse's shoulder without being bidden.

"You give really good hugs," Blaine told him, which made Jesse smile.

"It's another one of my many perfected arts."

They stood there for a while, neither one of them really paying attention to how much time had passed. Jesse started rubbing a small circle on Blaine's back and swaying them back and forth ever so slightly. Blaine, in his turn, had eventually let himself lean completely against Jesse, instead of having an awkward space between them as he tried not to touch Jesse, despite how that was clearly the whole point. It was a really good hug, not to mention a really long hug, and Blaine felt pleasantly warm in his arms.

Then Blaine yawned.

"You are tired," Jesse commented, pulling back just the slightest bit, which prompted Blaine to jump out of Jesse's embrace as if he'd been scalded. "Oh, calm down. You don't have to run away the second I pull away." Blaine mumbled an apology.

"Come on," Jesse sought out his hand again, shining his flashlight out from their dressing room into the corridor and leading Blaine out into it.

"Where are we going?" Blaine asked. "You're not–"

"No," Jesse answered, already knowing what the rest of the question was. "But, come on, this is Vocal Adrenaline. Did you seriously think that we don't have supplies back here for any and every situation that may arise?" He and Blaine walked past two more doors, then Jesse opened the third, leading Blaine inside. "Welcome to paradise." He raised his flashlight as high as he could, shining it down on the interior of the small room.

It really wasn't all that impressive, just what looked like another room with a desk and a shelf of drawers along the back wall. But tucked along the other walls was a whole row of sleeping bags and pillows and blankets. Each drawer was labeled with the name of a member of Vocal Adrenaline, and each was locked. Jesse's was the only drawer that was never locked, because everyone knew that if they tried to go in it, he'd find out. Being the lead was even better protection than a lock.

"You can pick any one you want," Jesse pointed at the sleeping bags. "They don't belong to anyone, and I'm pretty sure some of them have never been used."

"Why do you guys keep sleeping bags backstage?" Blaine asked, though he sounded hesitant, like he either didn't want to know or already had an inkling of the reason why.

"Sometimes our rehearsals run late," Jesse answered with a shrug, opening his drawer and sticking his flashlight in his mouth so he could root through it properly. They could keep whatever they wanted in these drawers, some people using them for extra rehearsal clothes or old books or things they didn't want to keep at home. Jesse had definitely seen a couple boys pouring over a Playboy in here once, and he suspected that one of the girls kept her diary in her drawer. But his was just sweatpants and T-shirts, and he grabbed two of each before taking the flashlight out of his mouth. "So we sleep in here," he finished. "Here." He tossed the clothes to Blaine. "And before you ask, you'll get a drawer once we've gotten to the point where rehearsals are long enough to warrant such measures."

Blaine still looked vaguely confused, but he had pulled out two sleeping bags and two pillows, and he accepted the clothes without complaint, so Jesse wasn't about to start nagging him. Instead, he set his flashlight down on the desk and started to change.

"Do you want me to leave?" Blaine asked, as soon as Jesse had started tugging his shirt over his head.

"No," Jesse answered immediately, his voice muffled since his head was still stuck in his shirt. He pulled it off and tossed it carelessly aside, then smirked over at Blaine, who was doing his very best not to look.

"I don't care, Blaine," he continued. "Hell, I could be standing here naked and you could be drawing a fucking picture of me and I wouldn't give a shit."

Blaine actually giggled, but he did eventually look over at Jesse, though his eyes were pointedly focused on Jesse's face. Jesse grinned at him.

"Too _Titanic_ for you?" Jesse teased. He could just barely see Blaine rolling his eyes in the dim light, but then Blaine reached over and actually shoved him, and Jesse was laughing. It sounded too loud in the small room, but soon Blaine had joined in, and it felt so very normal and merry that Jesse didn't really care if they were being too loud. Nobody was around to hear it, anyway.

He and Blaine both changed clothes without exchanging any more verbal jabs, even though to make up for how Blaine still tried to avert his eyes Jesse pointedly stared at him the whole time. Blaine turned his back when he realized what Jesse was doing, but then Jesse just stared at his back instead.

"That's kinda creepy, you know that?" Blaine told him once he'd pulled on the sweatpants and had turned back around.

"Take it as a compliment instead," Jesse shrugged. "You can pretend I was ogling you." Then he smirked. "Or maybe I was and that's just my cover."

"Shut up," Blaine gave him another shove.

"And who's getting all handsy now?" Jesse teased, but he didn't care, and for once Blaine didn't throw himself into an unnecessary panic, thinking he was being serious. Instead there was just more laughing, even when Jesse added, "Next thing we know, you'll be the one trying to get me on the prop sofa."

Then Jesse chose one of the larger blankets, spreading it out over the floor and then unrolling his sleeping bag on top of it. Blaine did the same, even putting the sleeping bags much closer together than Jesse had expected he would. He had thought that he'd end up pulling Blaine's over, but Blaine didn't seem to need the extra nudging anymore.

Now that was a mission accomplished if Jesse had ever seen one.

"So how late do rehearsals go sometimes?" Blaine asked after the pair of them were tucked inside their respective sleeping bags. Jesse turned to look at him, noticing that Blaine was looking up at the ceiling, even though it was too dark to see anything.

"Later than midnight, sometimes," Jesse answered, mirroring Blaine's position and turning his own face up to the ceiling. It was strangely comfortable, lying here and not looking at one another. When the members of Vocal Adrenaline slept back here after long rehearsals, most of the time they passed out before they even got inside their sleeping bags, lying together in a heap on the floor and using one another as pillows. There never was time for talking.

"That's on days when Shelby – Ms. Corcoran – gets clearance to keep us that late. Otherwise the power still goes out and we have to stop." Jesse grimaced. "That's never fun."

"Why?"

"Because we go from having those extra bright spotlights on us to complete darkness. We're literally stumbling around blind until someone can get a flashlight. One time someone actually fell off the stage and broke his arm."

"Damn."

"Yeah. Ms. Corcoran always watches the clock really carefully if we start to go late on a day she hasn't gotten the go-ahead."

"Does it happen a lot? Staying past midnight, I mean."

"Not too much," Jesse shook his head, which Blaine probably couldn't see, but his pillow rustled beneath him. "It only really happens around competitions, when we need to hammer our routines down and make them perfect. But even then it's not too often, because if we wear ourselves out before we even get to the competition, then what's the point?" He turned his head, squinting over at Blaine. "Are you worried about it?"

"About what?" Blaine turned to look at him, maybe because he could feel Jesse watching him.

"Competing."

Blaine turned his head back to look at the ceiling, but Jesse kept watching him.

"Yeah. Well, no, not worried. Just nervous. This isn't like what I did before, and you all care _so much_. Not that we didn't, it's just…"

"Different," Jesse supplied. He'd often heard as much from people who had managed to get into their ranks after doing something similar.

"Yeah," Blaine agreed.

"You'll be fine," Jesse assured him, scooting closer and reaching out of his sleeping bag to give where he thought Blaine's shoulder was a nudge. "There's a reason you're a featured vocalist, even if you were an annoying shit until today."

Blaine chuckled weakly.

"Do you think everyone's going to hate me?" he asked, turning his entire body so he was laying on his side, looking at Jesse. "I was _horrible_ before. I just… I feel so bad, and maybe people will like me more now, but… they'll hate me because… because it was just an act. I mean… I don't know. I don't even know what I'm saying."

But Jesse thought he understood.

If a person was the way Blaine had been acting, and not as some sort of cover, it was much easier to write them off as just being themselves. Their small acts of kindness were easier to appreciate, and eventually their words lost their sting and started to be funny. But suddenly if that wasn't who they are, if it turned out they had ulterior motives, then the questions started being asked. People would wonder why Blaine hadn't trusted them in the first place, why he'd felt so compelled to be someone he wasn't. Not to mention they'd want to know why things had changed, and Jesse might not be an expect, but he would wager a lot on the guess that Blaine wasn't planning on making everything he'd shared tonight public.

"I think they'll be confused," Jesse answered honestly, also turning on his side. "And yeah, they're going to ask you questions, but you don't have to answer. I'll yell at anyone who bothers you. They listen to me. Or we could come up with a cover story." He smirked, though he wasn't sure if Blaine could see it. "We'll tell them all you're madly in love with me and did it to keep my attention."

Blaine ducked his head, laughing.

"Admit it, though," Jesse pressed. "As far as potential objects of your affection go, I'm a pretty good fake one."

Blaine pointedly kept his head ducked down, not looking at him when he murmured, "I guess."

"Don't guess," Jesse insisted. "Come on, it's a simple enough question."

Blaine looked up at him for a fraction of a second, then looked away. Jesse kept staring at him, nudging him with his foot.

"You just really want me to admit I think you're wildly attractive, don't you?" Blaine finally piped up, and rather than take it in good grace, Jesse smirked at him, asking, "Well, do you?"

Blaine reached down and covered his face with his sleeping bag. Jesse pulled it back down.

"Come on, it's all in good fun," he reminded him. "Besides, you're not bad to look at, either."

"Not bad?" Blaine propped himself up on an elbow. "So you're wildly attractive and I'm not bad?"

"Yeah, just about," Jesse agreed, mirroring Blaine's position and nodding.

"Jerk," Blaine reached over and shoved him back down. Jesse let himself fall onto his back, lying down and looking up at the ceiling again. He felt Blaine still looking at him, probably expectantly or maybe exasperatedly, but either way Blaine was still looking at him and presumably waiting for something, so Jesse told the ceiling, "I think you're wildly attractive," in the most matter-of-fact voice he could manage.

He was met with silence, then Blaine let out a small chuckle, then more silence. Jesse looked over at him, raising both eyebrows and saying, "What? I do."

He could hear Blaine fidgeting, the material of the sleeping bag magnifying the noise. He could practically feel Blaine holding himself back from saying something in response.

"I'm not kidding," he told the other. Blaine stopped fidgeting and just stared at him. "What?"

"You can figure out what," was Blaine's answer, and yes, Jesse could. He was, presumably, the first person who'd told Blaine something like that – at least the first boy – and it didn't even matter in what context. Blaine didn't know how to accept that kind of compliment.

"This is the part where you say, 'Thank you, Jesse, and you're quite handsome yourself'."

"Shut up," Blaine shot a poorly-aimed kick at him.

"You're really not earning any points for politeness, Blaine," Jesse rolled his eyes.

"And you're acting like a complete sarcastic bastard," Blaine informed him, which made Jesse burst out laughing, the noise sounding, once again, too loud for the room.

"Well how would you like me to act instead?" he asked, still chuckling. "Would you prefer I act completely fake or lie to you? At least this way I'm being honest."

"Sarcastic bastard does suit you," Blaine conceded.

"I certainly hope so. That's another one of my many perfected arts."

"Wow, Jesse," Blaine mock-gasped. "Is there any art you haven't perfected?"

"None that spring immediately to mind. I'm kinda perfect. At everything."

"I highly doubt that," Blaine argued.

"You can be the judge of that once you've seen me do everything," Jesse teased. "So you might want to go buy yourself some popcorn, because this is going to be extremely entertaining and it'll take forever."

"Pass."

"You doubted my perfection," Jesse pressed. "You don't get to pass." This time he was the one aiming a kick, and he had much better aim than Blaine had. Even though the impact was muffled through their sleeping bags, Blaine still made a pained noise.

"What was that for?"

"Proving a point. Now do you want me to kiss it all better?"

"Pass," Blaine repeated, his tone suddenly firmer.

"I told you already: you don't get to pass." And before Blaine could do anything, Jesse leaned over and kissed Blaine, not really caring where his lips ended up. He got the side of Blaine's nose, making an obnoxious smacking noise when he pulled away despite not having done anything to warrant such a noise.

"Hey!" Blaine seemed to lash out at him thanks to some sort of instinct, his hand whacking Jesse in the chest. "What the hell was that for?"

"To distract you from the fact that I kicked you," Jesse said, his tone matter-of-fact again. "And I daresay it worked. Score two on the perfection meter."

"You're completely full of yourself," Blaine sounded exasperated.

"You say that like it's news or something," Jesse shook his head. "So, come on," he nudged Blaine with his elbow, "did I get the first kiss or did someone else magically beat me to it?"

"Like that even counts," Blaine scoffed.

"And you're not denying it." Jesse smirked, even though he knew Blaine wasn't looking at him and probably still couldn't even see all that well. "Want a proper one?"

"No," Blaine answered quickly. Jesse started laughing, which prompted Blaine to ask, clearly annoyed, "What?"

"Way to dash my hopes in one fell swoop, Anderson," Jesse called him by his last name without even thinking, then he felt Blaine cringing beside him. "I mean, Blaine. Damn, you need a better name. Blaine is not a good name for teasing."

"Sorry to disappoint," Blaine said smugly, clearly not sorry at all.

"Well, I'll give you credit for not jumping the first guy who tried to jump you," Jesse decided, which made Blaine start laughing this time. "And don't you dare laugh at my honesty and my admiration. I'll have you know I can be very persuasive when I want to be."

"Yeah, I was hoping this wasn't your A-game. Otherwise…." He left it hanging.

"It's probably best that you didn't finish that sentence."

"Why?" Blaine turned on his side again, facing Jesse. "You're not insulted, are you?"

Jesse mirrored his position. "No. But you might want to stop before I really start to get all persuasive on your ass." He could just barely make out Blaine frowning at him.

"Because that sounds really convincing."

Jesse didn't say anything in response. He just tilted his head slightly to one side, trying not to squint in an attempt to see better in the dim light. Squinting was never attractive. He let his eyes travel over Blaine's face, starting by making eye contact and then following the bridge of his nose, the curve of his lips, the jut of his chin. He had just started looking at Blaine's neck when he snapped his eyes back up to Blaine's face, noticing that Blaine's eyes had been tracking his progress, trying to figure out where exactly he was looking. Jesse forced himself not to smirk in satisfaction, instead letting himself smile slightly before seeking out eye contact again.

That was when he pulled the oldest trick in the book. He looked from Blaine's eyes to his mouth, then back up at his eyes, then started to lean in, slowly enough that it might not even be noticeable, or just enough to make his intentions clear.

And just as he'd expected, Blaine started leaning towards him, too. Jesse let him do it, their faces getting closer and closer together, and then just as it seemed like the pair of them were committed to the same thing, he tilted his head further to the side, lurching forward and instead whispering in Blaine's ear, "Gotcha."

Then he leaned back, feeling pleased with himself, smirking even as Blaine pointedly avoided looking at him. He heard a quietly mumbled, "Jerk," but chose not to comment on it. Instead he just waited for Blaine to look back up at him.

It took a shorter amount of time than he'd expected.

"That," Blaine said, pausing, "was rude."

"Yes," Jesse paused as well, "it was." He smirked. "But you can try again any time you like."

"And what makes you think I want to?" Blaine challenged.

"Because I'm me and I'm completely irresistible."

"Will you shut up about yourself for two seconds if I do?"

"Possibly," Jesse was still smirking. Blaine sighed, sounding like he'd just resigned himself to a terrible fate. He looked away from Jesse for a few seconds, then sat up, rather than leaning back on one elbow like Jesse was. Jesse raised both eyebrows expectantly, tilting his face upwards, waiting. That made Blaine laugh, but it sounded forced.

It took a few tense seconds, but then Blaine seemed to either resign himself or commit himself – Jesse wasn't sure which was more accurate a term – and he started to lean in. Rather than remaining in his somewhat awkward position, Jesse pushed himself upright, and this time the pair actually met each other in the middle properly.

Blaine seemed to be under the impression that Jesse was planning on kissing him just like he had before, quickly and without much effort. Their lips had barely brushed together when Blaine started pulling away. Jesse followed, one of his hands reaching around to the back of Blaine's neck, holding him in place rather than trying to haul him back in. He was craning his own neck now, leaning awkwardly forward, but he didn't really care.

He kept things gentle, trying to coax Blaine into doing some of the work, too, instead of just awkwardly sitting there while Jesse tried to kiss him. He was either too scared or too nervous or too embarrassed, or maybe a mix of all three, but Jesse wasn't going to let him go until he did _something_. He slowed himself to the point where he was practically just sitting there with his mouth pressed to Blaine's, his lips moving the same way once, twice, three times, and then Blaine seemed to catch on.

It was still a little awkward. Blaine was shy about doing… well, anything, and Jesse was more focused on him changing that than anything else. But when he took his hand away from the back of Blaine's neck, he didn't pull away, so Jesse counted that as a small victory. He let his hand brush past Blaine's shoulder, down his arm, and then he was linking their fingers together and just holding Blaine's hand. He gave it a squeeze, and Blaine squeezed back.

It took a while, but eventually Blaine seemed to figure out what he was doing. Then it stopped being awkward and started being nice. Blaine even made a contented little sighing noise, then tried to pull away, clearly embarrassed, but Jesse tightened his grip on his hand again, pulling him back. His free hand had gone right where the other had been on Blaine's neck, fingers brushing against his hair. Blaine's free hand had settled down on his own knee, which sometimes bumped into Jesse's.

Then Jesse let go of Blaine's hand, instead reaching out to feel Blaine's heartbeat. He splayed his fingers out across Blaine's chest, then broke the kiss long enough to tell him, "You're allowed to touch, too, you know." Blaine made a confused noise but didn't try to pull away to ask him anything, and Jesse found it more endearing than silly when Blaine ended up putting both of his hands on Jesse's knees.

He let Blaine decide when they were done, let him break the kiss and pull away slightly, his breathing heavy and pointedly avoiding eye contact, even if their close proximity would have made them both go cross-eyed. Jesse waited for him to say something, and when it seemed as though that wasn't going to happen, he took it upon himself to break the silence.

"So, _now_ will you have crazy sex on the prop sofa with me?"

Blaine put both hands on his chest and shoved him, hard.

"I'm kidding!"

But then Blaine was laughing, one of his hands lingering on Jesse's chest, and he shot right back, "Maybe if you buy me dinner first."


End file.
